


La Belle au Bois Dormant

by LKKG



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Based off the original Sleeping Beauty story cause fuck the disny-fied version, Miscomunication because language differences, if you don't know it that means it's dark, it's okay it gets better, no beta we die like men, the rest of the gang gets their own stories later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LKKG/pseuds/LKKG
Summary: Dreams and reality rarely mix.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Sleeping

Leorio had been fifteen the first time he saw the Sleeping Beauty. He had grown up hearing stories of her, heard of the misadventures the many of the older folks had had trying to find her tower in the forest around their town. The stories said that she had been there for hundreds of years at least, maybe more, but if anyone had found her, they did not speak of it. They said that she was an ancient princess cursed to sleep like death until true love's kiss set her free. Leorio had loved to imagine himself climbing the stairs of her tower, throwing open the doors to her chamber, stridding confidently up to her, and, upon seeing her beautiful face for the first time, falling madly in love with her and waking her with his kiss.

Of course, dreams and reality rarely mix.

It was raining when he found the tower. Not a storm like in the stories, just a muggy, humid, constant rain that soakes him to the bone and makes the path trecherous. He thinks little when he comes upon the ruins; there are pleanty in this valley, left over from some long forgotten kingdom that had fallen into disarray. He stumbles into it solely for shelter, hoping to start a fire and dry his handmedown healer's cloak and maybe have a hot meal before he set out once more for home. The main room offers no such protection from the wet, so he carefully begins to scale the stone steps up to the loft. Even the ornate doors don't phase him: he's more distracted making sure the floor's structurouly sound. Then he steps inside the room and stops dead.  
  
It smells fresh and sweet, like spring flowers, and it is warm like a midsummer's evening, a sharp contrast from the frigid fall outside. There are candles lit around the room, though they bare no sign that the wax was burning. The furnature is rich and beautiful and like nothing he had ever seen, and all of it perfectly clean and free of dust and critters. Then there's the bed: large enough for two at least, and covered in red and gold and blue linens and softer than a cloud.  
  
And lastly, there is the Beauty. She is indeed gorgeous, with hair like sunlight, skin like cream, and lips like roses. She's sleeping, too, just like the stories said; he could see her chest rising and falling beneath her duvet. He has never seen a more etheral person or magical place.  
  
He approaches the bed slowly, drawing up beside it with more wonder than confidence. She looks so comfortable in her soft bed, with her lips were curled in the slightest of smiles, like she was having some infinitely pleasent dream.  
  
He doesn't kiss her.  
  
He backs slowly out of the room, finding as he passes again through the doors that his clothes are now perfectly dry. He stumbles home in a state of shock, which is greatened when he finds his water flask filled with wine and his meager bag of herbs and medicinals filled with all kinds of rare and expensive varieties he had only seen in the books his master has. He keeps both a secret from the others, hidden in the bottom of his chest of belongings in the healer's hut.  
  
In the coming years, he visits her whenever he had an excuse to. At first, he just goes to look, to gaze upon her beauty. He never touchs anything and never stays long, feeling out of place in his perpetually muddy boots and his ragged clothes. Within a year though, he finds himself bringing her things, flowers in spring, pretty stones and minerals he finds by the river, little trinkets he buys with his meager savings. Everything he leaves behind he finds on display when he returns, the flowers in a vase, the stones lined up along a shelf, the trinkets placed around the room sweetly.  
  
Each time he comes, he finds a little something in his pack that hadn't been there before. Most of the time it was more medicinals, which he stockpiles and uses whenever he can without raising suspision. He has grown fond of the secret little room and the maiden within it. It hurt to think of people coming in to gawk at her.


	2. Waking

He still hasn't kissed her.  
  
It was in part because it was wrong to do so. She was asleep after all, and could not consent to his advances. Leorio was already a good man, though he'd only seen seventeen winters. He was already an excelent healer, too, already leaving the village not just to scavenge or buy necessities from the local trading town but to assist healers in other nearby villages. He had learned through his studies under various healers that nothing should be done to a person without their permission, and he had done his best to live by that.  
  
Perhaps more than that, however, because he can't bear the thought that he might kiss her and she might not wake. Of course, the legend of the true love's kiss might be false, it might be that she would never wake, or only do so after a certain amount of time had passed. But he can't stomach the possible disappointment. He does not pretend that it is not impossible that he could love her without knowing her at all, but if it was meant to be, then he would only love her more when she woke.  
  
So he never does. Another year passes, and now he spends as much time as he can with her, still bringing her gifts and telling her stories of his travels, reading to her what few books come into his possention. Then he is sent away, to travel the lands for a year and a day and spread his name and reputation as a master healer in his own right. He says his goodbye to his friends and to the Beauty and leaves, finding his travel bag heavy with all manner of necessities and niceties to make his journey easier; a parting gift from Beauty's mystic guardian.

His travels change him. He sees plague for the first time, and war. It shakes him deeply, but his skills grow for it. At last he can use the medicinals he has been saving since he was fifteen, and he quickly becomes the most saught after healer in the realm. But at long last, his year and a day is nearly over, and he may return to his village and to Beauty.  
  
He finds the tower easily, he could never forget how to reach it, and enters the ruins. His stomach drops as he is met with a decaying body. He rushes to it, and determines that it doesn't belong to anyone he knows, though it has been eaten away to little more than bones. He guesses it has been there for much of the time he has been away.  
  
Then he hears screaming.  
  
His feet carry him up the stairs before he can begin to think. He finds the doors locked and can't keep the fear from his heart, but as he begs to be admitted he hears the bolt slide open and he bursts inside and rushes to the bed.  
  
Beauty is sobbing, screams bursting from her rose lips in intervals, delicate hands fluttering in confusion and pain between her swollen belly and the bedsheets.  
  
Leorio clamours onto the bed and tears back the linens, swallowing hard as he sees the fluid staining the sheets. His practiced hands push her bedclothes up past her belly and he shifts between her legs.  
  
He had midwifted many births in his now nineteen winters. He's well practiced and very skilled, but even for his many gifts, when the child emerges still and silent, there is nothing he can do but set it aside and tend to the mother. He would give it a proper burial when Beauty was stable.  
  
The birth had not gone smoothly. She had been panicked and frightened, and he had been unable to explain to her what she needed to do to further the process. When the child had at last passed through completely, she had at last fallen unconscious. He strips and cleans her, careful and gentle, and tends to her bleading womb, then redresses her, lifting her carefully and setting her on her sete while he changes the bedlinens.  
  
Once he's certain there's nothing more he can do, he takes the empty child outside and digs it a grave with his bare hands and lays it to rest, murmering prayers that would see it safely to where it belonged. At last he returns to Beauty's room and collapses against the door and sleeps.


	3. Meeting

He wakes to weeping. He brushes a hand across his eyes and stands on unsteady legs. He can see Beauty's shoulders shaking beneath her covers. He takes a step towards her and she bolts upright. Her eyes are red, not just the whites but the irises as well are shining rubies, and she looks furious even with her tears dripping down her face.  
  
She gathers the blankets beneath her chin and glares at him, then, her voice broken and hoarse from her screaming before, she says something to him in a language he doesn't recognize. When he takes another step forward, she flinches and repeats the phrase louder.  
  
He holds his hands up in a way he hopes is nonthreatening, but she mearly flinches again and this time shouts the phrase, one hand slipping out from under the covers to gesture emphatically at the door.  
  
At last, he understands. He takes the phrase to mean "get out." He keeps his hands up and steps back to the door and exits.  
  
Later, when he returns to the village and is welcomed enthuasitically, he checks his bag. Inside, he finds a single scrap of paper upon which is written in his tongue "return."

He does, the next day, bringing with him more rags to catch Beauty's blood and tea and soup for her to drink. On the way, he finds a few wildflowers and decides to bring them as well.  
  
She is awake when he enters, still huddled on her bed, hair mussed and eyes still red completely. She watchs warily as he approaches the bed. "Here," he says holding out the flowers. "I brought these for you." He sets them on the bedside table, then pulls out the skiens with the tea and soup and sets them on the bed beside her. "Drink."  
  
She stares at him with open hostility.  
  
He opens the soup skien and holds it up, letting the smell spread across the room. He can see the hunger in her eyes as she sniffs, but she makes no move to take it so he brings it to his lips and sips, keeping his eyes on her, letting her see him swallow before holding to out to her again. She cautiously takes it, and watches him warrily as she drinks deeply. In moments she has forgotten about him entirely as she sucks down the contents of the skien eagerly. Some of it dribbles down her chin as she gulps, and Leorio turns away to hide his fond smile.  
  
Once it is empty, she lowers it, then seems to realize the mess she had made of herself, looking down at her now soupstained bedclothes, cheeks pinking softly. He hands her a rag to wipe her face with, and she dabs herself clean. The tea is consumed with a similar intensity, after which, she settles sleepily back onto the pillows. He leaves the rags beside her on the bed, pointing at them and then at her hips. When she nods, he takes his leave.  
  
He returns later with more food, enough to last her well into the next day, then he sets about attempting his more difficult task.  
  
He gestures to his lower abdomen, then points at hers and mimics lifting the sheets.  
  
Her eyes narrow and she gathers the blankets around her more tightly. He places his bag on the bed beside her and opens it, showing her his herbs and medical tools, then pulls out everything he'd need to ease her healing. Then he points again.  
  
She considers the items beside her, then meets his gaze, the threat in her scarlet eyes clear as she pushes down the linens.  
  
He carefully pulls them to the edge of the bed, then, slowly, pulls the hem of her bedclothes up to her waist. She stiffens and buries her face in the crook of her arm. Gently, he appraises her condition and tends to her, always keeping his touch light and soft. Whenever she flinches, he stills until she relaxes again. At last, he finishes and pulls down her clothes and pulls up the blankets.  
  
It is a long moment before she moves, but at last she looks over at him. She mumbles something he pretends means thank you.  
  
He points to himself. "Leorio." She gives him a funny look so he repeats the gesture. "Leorio."  
  
She points at him. "Liorio," she says.  
  
He shakes his head. "Leorio," he clarifies.  
  
"Leorio."  
  
He beams at her.  
  
She points at herself. "Kurapika." Then she turns away from him, and he sees himself out.


	4. Learning

In the coming days, Leorio went to visit Kurapika as often as he could, bringing food and water and anything else he thought she might need or like.  
  
After a week, he comes inside and finds her on the settee reading, wearing a white, long sleeved shirt and white trousers. She closes her book as he comes in.  
  
He smiles broadly at her. "Hello Kurapika," he says.  
  
"Hello Leorio," she replies quietly, the words heavily accented but clear. She was learning his language quickly. He'd tried to learn hers, but after he'd proved barely capable of pronouncing her name, she'd refused to teach him more.  
  
He points at her book and states "book."  
  
"Book," she replies. "Bed," she says pointing, "floor, door, food, water."  
  
"Yes," he says, and she grins proudly.  
  
The next day, he brings a tray and a bag of sand used for teaching children.  
  
"Hello Leorio," Kurapika calls out from behind the bathing screen.  
  
He blushes, and replies in kind, sitting down with his back to the screen and unpacking his bag while he waits for her to emerge.  
  
She does a few moments later, blond hair wet and dripping onto her white clothes.  
  
"Tray," he said, holding it up. "Sand."  
  
"Tray, sand, book, bed, food, water, floor, door, rock, flower, clothes." They were both particularly proud of clothes. It had been complicated to explain. After that success, Leorio's hoping he can teach her more complex concepts today.  
  
He pours the sand into the tray and draws a rudimentary sun on it with his finger. "Sun," he says.  
  
She cocks her head, confusion spreading across her face.  
  
He points towards the door and then up. Seeing she still doesn't understand, he points to one of the candles, then up at the sky again, wishing her room had a window. He sees her lips form the sound her culture must have used to convey understanding, something along the lines of "oh," or "ah."  
  
"Sun," she says, pointing at the candle, then the ceiling. He nods, then smooths the sand and draws a crescent moon. "Moon," he tells her, pointing upwards again.  
  
"Moon," she agrees. "Sun, moon."  
  
He draws a five pointed star next to the moon. "Star," he points towards the candle again, then the moon, then held his thumb and forefinger close to show small.  
  
She nods. "Star."  
  
This was going to be the challenging bit. He gestures at the whole tray. "Night. Moon and star makes night."  
  
She ponders that for a moment. "Moon," she says pointing at his crescent, then points at the star, "star," finally she mimics his sweeping gesture "night."  
  
He nods carefully, then he erases the board again and redraw the sun.  
  
"Sun," she said quickly.  
  
He nods, then repeates the same gesture he used for night. "Day."  
  
"Moon and star, night. Sun, day."  
  
"Yes!" Leorio says encouragingly.  
  
She grins, looking very happy with herself.  
  
He works her through the seasons, slowly, then basic plurals. Finally, he draws what he hopes is clearly a male and a female figure. He points at the male one, "man," then the female one, "woman." Kurapika looks confused, so he points between himself and the male figure. "Man." Then he points between Kurapika and the female figure. "Woman."  
  
Kurapika's eyebrows draw and she shakes her head. "No," she says, then jabs her finger between herself and the male figure. "Man."  
  
Thinking she misunderstood, he points again at the female figure, then, feeling slightly embarrassed, makes an outward curving gesture near his chest, then points at her again. "Woman."  
  
She stands abruptly, and her voice is cold when she speaks in her language. He recognizes the words from the first morning, the ones he thinks mean "get out." He stares at her, uncertain what he did wrong. She shouts at him again, and he stands and stumbles back towards the door.  
  
He didn't realize that he had left his bag until he was already beyond the ruins. Shocked, hurt, and confused, he wanders aimlessly over to the nearby stream. As he sits, something crinkles in his trouser pocket. He reaches inside and pulls out another note written on paper in his language. "The mind and body are not always aligned," it read.  
  
What did that mean? Why would the mind and body not be aligned? About what? He had midwifed the birth of Kurapika's child and dressed her wounds thereafter. She was female. Of that he was absolutely certain.  
  
Then he remembered something. An inkling of a rumour he had heard during his year abroad. A story of a princess in a tower who was male but still a girl.  
  
Could the same be true for Kurapika? Female, but a boy? "Man," she had said, pointing between herself and the male figure he'd drawn.  
  
What would the ramifications of that be, if she, or, rather, he, was that way? Kurapika had always worn men's clothing, now that he was considering it. Had always been uncomfortable with him touching or seeing her body. He'd assumed it was because of the nature of her waking, the knowledge that she- he had been violated while he was asleep, but perhaps it was more than that. But what did it actually matter what was beneath her- his clothing? It wasn't like- well, it wasn't like they were intimate. Leorio's face flushes just thinking about it. He... well, he wishes they were, but they weren't. But beyond that, was there truly a difference? He had met many boys of similar stature as her- him, so other than his intimate parts, there really didn't seem to be much of a difference at all.  
  
He sits for a long time, thinking and rethinking, but he always returns to the same conclusion: it doesn't matter. Kurapika is still heartbreakingly beautiful and smart as a whip and he still is madly, unthinkably in love with him.  
  
As the sun begins to stain the sky pink, he stands and returns to Kurapika's tower. He enters quietly, and finds him under the covers of the enormous bed. Leorio sits beside him and whispers, "Kurapika."  
  
Muffled from under the blankets, he hears the same "get out."  
  
"I'm sorry," he says. Then he pulls the covers back from Kurapika's face. He looks up at him, face red from crying, and Leorio's heart breaks a little. "Kurapika, man," he says.  
  
"Kurapika, man?" He confirms quietly, like he can barely even hope.  
  
"Leorio, man, Kurapika, man."  
  
Kurapika stares at him a moment longer, then smiles, wiping at his eyes. Then he shifts over in the bed and pulls back the covers, patting the bed beside him. Leorio stares at him in wonder. "Me?" He asks, pointing at himself.  
  
Kurapika rolls his eyes, then says, "yes. Leorio, bed."  
  
As if in a dream, Leorio pulls off his boots and slides in beside Kurapika, blushing. To his relief, and vague disappointment, Kurapika makes no move to come closer, just turns on his side and falls asleep.  
  
Leorio lays awake for a long time, hyperaware of Kurapika's soft breaths, but at last sleep takes him.


End file.
